


Heart Attack

by GMRivers



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Badass Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Crime Fighting, Emotions, Empathy, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Homeless Jason Tood, Homelessness, Jason Todd Feels, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd is Robin, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Nino Lahiffe Friendship, Minor Character Death, Music, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Sad, Soulmates, Swearing, Tags May Change, Violence is Canon-typical for batman (not really for MLB), Young Jason Todd, Young Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27954113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GMRivers/pseuds/GMRivers
Summary: When Jason was five years old, his mom told him what the music meant: "Somewhere, on the other side of that song, there is someone who will love you very much when you meet them."———Marinette Dupain-Cheng was born with bright blue eyes and a song in her heart. Her parents couldn't have known just how true that statement was.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Jason Todd, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Jason Todd
Comments: 99
Kudos: 325





	1. Steady

**Author's Note:**

> Soulmate AUs aren't usually my thing, BUT I thought:  
> What if we pair up a couple of characters who constantly get hurt/die and get revived?  
> That would be an angsty mess and I need that. Just think of the guilt, and the worry, and the super-hero-ing. And so you get this. 
> 
> For the sake of the story, Jason is 2 years older than Marinette. The ages of the rest of the batfam shift accordingly. (Meaning Tim is still about a year younger than Jason, etc.)
> 
> I've done my best to make sure there are no mistakes, but I have no beta, so please feel free to let me know if you catch something. 
> 
> Disclaimer: This is, as you can probably tell, fanfiction. Which means I don't own the characters or any related franchises. Or anything at all. I am just a humble writer playing in a wonderful sandbox.

Jason couldn't remember a time when his head was completely quiet. Always, in all of his memories, he had lived with the soft melody that played in his mind.

His mom would later tell him that it hadn't always been that way. As far as she knew, he started hearing his soulmate when he was two. It would make sense, as that was when he started swaying to music nobody could hear and humming sweet little melodies that only he knew. 

He was happy, this little boy, humming and singing and dancing. Urging his mom to join him as she mended his old jacket, or as she cooked dinner for their little family. Even the dismissive remarks of his father couldn't rob Jason of his song. 

When Jason was five years old, his father was sent to jail. 

When Jason was five years old and crying, his mom told him what the music meant: "Somewhere, on the other side of that song, there is someone who will love you very much when you meet them." 

At first, little Jason had been quiet, and a little hopeful. Soon, he was ecstatic and excited, bombarding his mother with questions like _how_ and _who_ and _when_. He'd cried for hours when his mom told him it could be many years until they met.

"But you know what," She had said, "even if it takes years for you to meet, you are still a very lucky boy. A lot of people don't have a soulmate."

Jason had looked at his mom with a small concerned frown, "Why not? Don't they want one?"

"It's not about _wanting_ one, darling. Some people just don't have one, and some people do." She answered, with a somewhat fragile curl of her lips that quickly strengthened into a smile. "And I am very, very happy that you have one, honey."

"Do you have one mommy?" Jason asked then. 

Catherine drew her son into a hug as she said, "I did. A long time ago."

And so Jason lived. He heard the soft tune the first thing in the morning and it was the last thing he heard before falling asleep. He told some of his friends about it, and then he learnt to keep quiet when little Lizzie cried for the song that just wasn't there. He started being more careful with talking about his soulmate. But still he heard it every moment of every day. Always changing and flowing, but never unfamiliar. A steady place he could come home too. A soundtrack of his own for the stories in his books. 

Soft chirps and gentle trills lifted his mood when he was down. Low crooning and a dulcet hum lulled him to sleep at night. Beautiful melodies of spring and light carried him through the day when times got hard. A steady beat to guide him. 

And times got very hard sometimes.

Life in Gotham was hardly ever easy. For those who lived near Crime Alley it tended to be more about _surviving_ than _living_. Jason Todd was no exception. 

He saw, and learned, and did many things that would stay with him forever. He drowned them out with the melody in his mind, and he prayed that his soulmate couldn't hear the worst parts. As guilty as he felt thinking that they might, he could stop his situation as much as he could stop breathing. Eventually, his lungs would force him to gasp for air. 

So he learned to throw a punch, and how to run away. He saw children his age getting mugged and stabbed for a few dollars, and grown men getting shot for owing money to the wrong person. He learned to smoke without choking and to pick pockets without getting caught. He saw one of his friends get buried six deep because he'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He learned how to get money, and where to get drugs. He saw his mom wither away, unable to afford medicine. He learned the look of track marks and the pain of duty. 

And then he came home to a silence too deep to be natural. Hands too cold and skin too pale. Mouth too open and eyes not enough. A chest too still to be breathing.

That night he cried himself dry until all he could hear was the song in his mind.

It didn't sound very steady, that night.


	2. Music

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was born with bright blue eyes and a song in her heart. Her parents had said so even before they could have known just how true that statement was.

Their little Mari had been a calm baby. She hardly ever cried, and she slept like the dream of every sleep-deprived parent. In fact, when she _did_ cry, it didn't last very long. She would lay in her crib or in her parents' arms, and slowly, but steadily calm down.

Yes, Marinette was an exceedingly calm baby. Except when she _wasn't_.

It wasn't often, but every once in a while, seemingly out of nowhere, Marinette would cry, and cry. These moments didn't last long, and they weren't loud affairs by any stretch. Still, hardly anything her parents did could calm her, but lullabies where always a good idea. 

When she grew a little bit older, she would gaze in wonder at radio's and music players, and at every source of music she could find. Every once in a while she would listen to a small bit of music, no more than a few notes, and repeat them over and over.

These bits of music she shared with her parents, and to anyone who would listen to the little girl. Her parents might have been annoyed at having a tiny bit of a song repeated over and over again, but when their baby smiled and hummed along to what she called _her song_ , they couldn't help but smile back.

As soon as she was old enough, Marinette's parents started her on music lessons. To their surprise, the usually obedient little girl often refused to do what the teacher told her.

"That's not my song." Marinette said.

Mme Chapelle sighed minutely as she forced a patient smile for the child, "Maybe you can add this to your song."

Instead of complying with the stressed out music teacher, Marinette frowned. 

"I don't wanna change my song." She said, "Never, ever."

Needless to say, the lessons didn't continue for much longer. 

It wasn't until Marinette was four years old that her parents realized what was going on. 

" _Maman_?" Marinette said, as her mom tucked her in to sleep, "Can you sing me your song?" 

"Which song would you like _mon chou_?" Sabine asked, "What about _Au clair de la lune_?" 

The little girl shook her head, "Not that one. I want your song."

"Which song?" Asked her mother, smiling bemisedly at her daughter. 

"The one in your head." Said Marinette, "Like my song."

Sabine's eyes went wide and her mouth formed a small, surprised "Oh."

"Can you sing it, _maman_?" Marinette asked again, big blue eyes blinking innocently at her mother. 

"Oh _ma chérie_ , I don't have a song like yours." Sabine said, "Hold on, let me get _papa_."

Tom, like Sabine, had been surprised at the discovery that Marinette wasn't simply a fan of music. Their surprise was short-lasting, as they both found that it made perfect sense when looking back on their daughter's behavior.

"Well, _ma petite_." Sabine started, "Remember how I said I didn't have a song?"

Marinette nodded, though she seemed visibly confused.

"That's because only some people have songs like that." Her mom said.

"Why?" 

"Some people have soulmates. This is a person that fits perfectly with who you are. Someone who can love you very much if you meet them." Her mom said, "And people who have soulmates can hear their songs."

"But what do _you_ hear?" Marinette said, her brow furrowed and her nose scrunched up adorably.

"Whatever is around us." Her dad answered this time. "Just like you. Only without the music."

"Oh. So you and _maman_ don't have soulmates?" Marinette asked, looking a bit sad.

"No," Answered Tom, "but we still love each other very much."

Nothing much changed for Marinette, as she had lived her whole life with the song, but her parents asked more about it as she grew. So she told them of the airy freedom and the rising tides. She told them of the pull and push of the deeper sounds, and the delicate swirls that floated above.

And when she was eight years old and woke up in the middle of the night, the song turned cold and slow, she cried for her soulmate as her parents held her and tried their best to understand.

She didn't know it then, but she would be feeling echos of that same song every year on that exact date. She would mark it on her calendar, even if she didn't know why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so happy with the response I've gotten for this story :D  
> 25 kudos and a couple of comments in only a few hours!!!  
> Thank you so much! ❤️


	3. Lessons

Jason was an orphan. His father might not be dead, sure, but the man was supposed to have gotten out of jail ages ago, and he never went back to his family. Therefore, Jason had to fend for himself.

This was a problem, as ten year olds aren't supposed to be living alone. Not that Jason couldn't live alone. Even he, young as he was, knew that in the last few years he had taken care of his mother more than she had taken care of him. Her illness had only gotten worse, and so had the drug addiction. No matter what Jason did, some days she wouldn't get up or even talk. 

Jason got the money for rent. He made sure they had food. He kept their small apartment as clean as possible. Jason did all that practically by himself, with only sympathetic looks from old Mrs. Brown and the occasional word of advice from one of the girls. 

The problem wasn't Jason being by himself. It was that CPS certainly wouldn't let him.

There were only two choices in Jason's eyes, and one of them felt too much like giving up. So he took to the streets.

He took all that he could with him. A few sets of clothes, a blanket, toiletries, food, what little money he had, and his little treasure box. Inside the small cardboard box he kept a couple of photographs, his favorite book, and the only valuable items his mother owned. Her wedding ring, and a pair of pearl earrings that belonged to her own grandmother. 

It wasn't easy. Not by any means. Living in Gotham had always implied a certain level of danger. Their small apartment might not have been big or in a nice part of town, but it kept some of the danger at arm's length. Now, Jason was met with a new set of lessons.

First he had to find someplace to sleep. Even Jason, young as he was, knew that sleeping in a public area could end with the police involved and with him in the system. 

His first night on the streets, he found a group of homeless people in an abandoned building near the old hardware store. It seemed like a good idea: strength in numbers. He approached them for a place to stay, but a thuggish man with a baseball bat chased him off. 

He started keeping track of places that would run him off and places where he could stay. Some of those were interchangeable depending on the day. 

Every once in a while he would even find a group that would let him stay near, but it wasn't often. People were wary when living in territory with such a strong gang presence.

Still, most of the time he managed to find decent shelter. There, he would take stock of his possessions, make a plan for the next day, and fall asleep to his soulmate's tune. But as the year went on, it was harder to find a good place. 

The weather in Gotham was nothing too extreme. Summer was pleasantly warm, it had meant cold lemonade and on very special occasions, even ice cream. Winter meant a bit of snow, and though some years they hadn't been able to afford more than a few hours on the heater, those memories were full of warm milk and cuddling under piles of blankets.

Winter was fast approaching for ten year old Jason. This time there were no piles of blankets to cuddle under, and no one to huddle for warmth with. It seemed like the only remnant of life _before_ was the song inside his head. 

The one blanket Jason had taken with him proved almost useless against the chill of night. He took to wearing several layers of clothes in an attempt to fight the cold, but they could only do so much. 

The first few weeks were the hardest. He was cold, he was hungry, and he was lonely. He couldn't even do the same things he did before to survive. Some of his usual haunts for making money were way to close to the apartment they used to live in. There was always the risk that a neighbor would recognize him and call the authorities.

After an incident with another kid, he also learned to sleep curled around his backpack, lest everything he owned be stolen. 

That was one of the first chances he got to actually talk to someone in a similar situation as him. 

Nate was a scrawny kid, maybe two years older than Jason, but not much taller. He wasn't a particularly nice or gentle boy, but he gave Jason some advice after he failed to steal the backpack. 

Jason hadn't thought that his backpack was nice enough to stand out, but according to Nate, it looked better than most of the stuff others carried. A good amount of dirt and some extra scratches helped take care of that. Nate didn't stay much longer after that. 

"See you around, Jay." He said, and walked away to find shelter for the night. 

They crossed each other's paths once in a while, but not often. They both had different ways to earn a living, and Jason refused to work for the gangs as Nate so often did. Nothing good ever came of gangs as far as Jason was concerned. 

This refusal to work for the gangs brought a fair amount of difficulty to his life. It was almost impossible to find a paying job for a homeless ten year-old, especially when gangs were some of the few that would pay kids. 

Keeping himself looking clean and presentable was a challenge, yes. But it was necessary to blend in with the crowds, and to get money. Even lowlife criminals payed better if you looked clean, and you can only pick pockets for as long as you don't get caught. Looking like a clean, healthy kid raised his chances of not being scrutinized too closely. 

That also got harder as winter approached. It was too cold to wash himself anywhere else that wasn't a proper building with doors and closed windows. Jason began using hand wipes more often, missing the feeling of a hot shower and promising himself to earn enough for a gym membership. Then at least he would have showers and drinking water easily available. 

Still, it got colder and colder. He soon found himself having to choose between eating and buying enough supplies to keep himself warm. It wasn't long before Jason learnt what it meant to be truly hungry. 

He had known life would be harder after his mom died, but not in the ways he had expected. It wasn't other street kids he worried about. It wasn't even the gangs or the petty criminals.

His worst enemy turned out to be snow. It soaked through his clothes and stole his warmth, crept into his shoes and wet his socks. 

It might have been the death of him, if he hadn't been standing by the corner on 3rd. 

"Jason?" The soft, femenine voice caught the boy by surprise. 

He straightened from where he slumped against the wall, turning to look at the woman who called his name. 

"Trix?" He said, surprised. He hadn't expected to bump into someone who knew him. That had been the whole point of lurking by the Bowery instead of near Crime Alley. It's harder to pick the pockets of someone who knows you. 

He could feel her eyes scanning him, and the young woman's brow soon became drawn with concern. "Jason, are you safe? Do you have a place?" 

The boy wasn't as surprised with her concern as he thought he might have been. They used to live in the same building after all, and she helped him look after his mom more than once.

Jason sighed and motioned for her to follow him a few steps into the alley. 

"Sometimes. It's not- it's not always easy to find a safe place." He answered at last. 

Trix winced in sympathy, "I know."

She looked at him for a second more before noticing something else, "Your sneakers are soaked through."

Jason shot her a look, "Yeah, it's all the snow."

Trix stared at him for a moment before saying, "You're only wearing socks under them, aren't you?" 

She barely waited for his nod before sighing, "Shit, okay. Come on, I'm gonna show you something."

Jason hesitated for a second, meeting her gaze uncertainly before nodding his acquiescence and following her. 

They walked in silence for a few minutes until she gestured to a worn down building. 

"It's here. Come on." They stepped inside and she motioned for him to wait in the hallway. Jason saw her dissappear behind one of the doors, more than okay with waiting indoors. 

When Trix came back, she held a few plastic bags in her hands, most of them empty, and one full of something Jason couldn't make out. 

"You need to keep your feet dry," Trix said, gesturing at his wet shoes with the plastic bags. "Put on some dry socks, wrap some of these around your feet, and then put on another pair of socks."

Jason did as he was told, making adjustments were Trix guided him. When that was done he looked curiously a the bag she still held. 

"What's that?" He asked. 

"Just some stuff you could probably use." Trix said, voice deceptively casual. "A few zip lock bags, some very basic first-aid stuff, a water bottle and a spare pair of socks. Oh, and a cereal bar."

Jason was stunned into silent compliance, taking the bag when she pushed it into his hands. 

"Listen," Trix continued, "It may sound like a lot, but it will run out quicker than you think."

Jason nodded quickly, "No, no- I mean, yes. I get it. But it is a lot, you know? More than anyone ever- yeah."

"Yeah." She smiled, somewhat sadly. "Well, I meant it when I said it was very basic first aid. Don't get into fights if you can help it." 

Jason still looked somewhat overwhelmed, but he managed a shaky smile. "Thank you, Trix."

"And start collecting old newspapers, if you haven't already. They can be useful." She added. 

His smile grew a bit stronger, "I will."

"Good." She said, and they both lapsed into silence for a while. 

"How are the others?" Jason asked, "Rose, Gigi and Zoe?" 

"Rose and Zoe are good. They'll be happy to know you're okay." Trix said before taking a deep breath. "Gigi... Has been missing for a while."

Jason couldn't manage anything more than a small "Oh."

In Gotham, that could mean anything from death, to human trafficking, to disappearing in order to find a new life. Though it was hardly ever the last, unless they were a wealthy criminal with good connections.

A moment more passed in silence, punctuated only by the change in his mind's music. That had been happening lately. A small lilting sound that Jason was starting to interpret as tentative. 

"I should probably go." Jason said, starting to inch towards the door.

Trix nodded, giving him a last scrutinizing look. "Take care, Jason."

And back outside he went, his footsteps pounding to the beat of the melody he held so dear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder that this fic has no beta and I would really appreciate it if you could point out any mistakes I failed to catch. (especially since English isn't my first language) 
> 
> In other news, I don't think I've ever gotten so many kudos in such a short time.  
> Thanks guys! ❤️


	4. Worry

Marinette couldn't explain what, exactly, had changed, but something had. Ever since she'd woken up crying in the middle of the night, something had been different about her song. It wasn't the terrible cold that had gripped her mind back then, but there was an undeniable difference between what she heard before and what she heard now. If Marinette had to explain it out loud, she would probably say that the song was more careful now.

The wild tune that used to swerve around the waves was now smoother. The echoes that enveloped every sound seemed both, contained and easier to disperse.

It was different, but just as beautiful.

It didn't mean she wasn't worried. It was days before the song stopped feeling cold. And even now it fluttered from time to time, momentarily changing the symphony. When the smooth glide from one note to the other turned into a frantic, sharp slide, she wondered: What could her soul mate be doing that makes her heart itself beat wildly in harmony? Was their heart beating as fast? Were they scared? Excited, perhaps? 

When Christmas came around, her grandmother gave her a beautiful leather-bound journal. Marinette filled it with questions and observations. A careful study of a subject known only to herself. 

She nibbled on the tip of her pen as she tried to figure out the words to describe the latest change. It wasn't anything drastic, but Marinette was a strong believer in doing things all the way. If she was going to keep a log about the music, she was going to keep it well. 

"Marinette," Sabine called from downstairs, "Nino is here!" 

"Oh!" Marinette quickly sprung up and put away her journal, hurrying to greet Nino at the bakery. 

They had been planning this meet up for days, but it had totally slipped her mind. They were going to watch Christmas movies and Marinette's parents were going to help them make gingerbread. 

Marinette was already by the trapdoor when she realized she was still in her pajamas. 

"Just a moment!" She called, frantically grabbing whatever clothes she could find and changing in record time. "I'm... ready."

At last she left her room and went down to the bakery to greet Nino and his mom, who was dropping him off. 

"Bonjour Marinette." Nino's mom said with a smile. 

"Bonjour Mme Lahiffe, bonjour Nino." Marinette said, greeting them both with a smile and a quick hug. "How are you?" 

Nino beamed back at Marinette, "I'm doing awesome! You wouldn't believe what I got for Christmas. One of my aunts got me an old vinyl player and I've been listening to lots of old albums my mom had lying around." Nino said, taking out a small stack of vinyls from his backpack. "You will love this one, Mari, it has a super funky cover."

"Oh, look at their outfits! What band is this?" 

The kids chatted for a while, looking at the covers on the old vinyls and already fantasizing of a future where Nino would have his own music and Marinette would design all of his covers and outfits. 

Eventually, after Nino's mom had left, Tom and Sabine called the kids into the kitchen so they could learn to make gingerbread men. 

"The first thing we have to do," Marinette's mom said, "Is make sure we have everything we need."

"Alright kiddos, why don't you check the recipe and get everything ready?" said Tom, handing a piece of paper to Nino.

The kids scrambled to get all the ingredients ready. They each slipped on an apron, revealing Marinette's latest attempts at learning embroidery, a lopsided macaroon and a slightly uneven cake.

Marinette's parents supervised the children as they worked their way through the recipe, explaining the best ways to do something and why it had to be done like that. Once Sabine took them out of the oven, they all had a good time decorating the cookies with white, red, and green icing. Marinette's favorite was a gingerbread lady with a pretty red dress and elegant white gloves. All in all, it was a pretty good batch of gingerbread cookies, especially considering it was made by a pair of eight year olds.

Between the two of them, they ate an even dozen as they worked their way through their favorite Christmas movies. 

As the second movie ended and the credits rolled, they fell into light conversation. Eventually though, Nino brought up a different topic of conversation.

"How's _the song_?" He asked, knowing that Marinette had been worried before. 

Marinette tilted her head slightly, listening to something only she could hear.

"It's calm." She said, "It's been like that all morning."

"That's good, right?" Nino asked. 

Marinette laughed a bit, "I think they're just asleep. But yeah, it's good."

Nino's eyebrows climbed up involuntarily, "It's the middle of the day." 

"My parents think my soulmate lives somewhere else. Probably another continent." Marinette explained. 

"That's pretty cool." Nino said. "They could be from anywhere in the world."

"I know, right?" Marinette said, though her smile fell slightly a moment later. "I just wish I could meet them _now_."

"I know. _I_ want to meet them and they're not even my soulmate." Nino said, patting Marinette on the back.

"The song just feels... lonely, sometimes. But there haven't been any more cold moments, so at least that's good right?" Marinette said, looking at Nino for reassurance. 

"I'm sure your soulmate will be fine." Nino said, smiling. "How else would they stop hearing you worry from the other side of the world?"

"Nino!" Marinette looked at him with fake indignation and a bright pink blush, but a small giggle escaped her. "I guess I do worry a lot."

"Totally." Nino nodded. "So I say we should go get more cookies to distract you."

Marinette grinned at the idea. "Race you." She said, and took of running towards the kitchen, Nino close at her heels. 

In the end they declared a tie, since they had both insisted they had been the one to get there first. 

Nino went home soon after, but Marinette kept thinking about what he said. She supposed it made sense that her soulmate would feel her worry, but that made her wonder if they could feel other things about her. Maybe they could only hear what she felt about them? Except that didn't make a lot of sense, because she was pretty sure what she heard from her soulmate had nothing to do with her. Maybe her soulmate had been very sick and was still trying to get better? Or maybe it's just that something really bad happened _that night_ and the song is going to always be a bit sad because her soulmate will always be a bit sad.

She then found herself thinking that it probably wasn't nice to hear a worried song all day long. Naturally, this led Marinette to worry that her soulmate was only hearing a worried mess instead of the harmonies she was supposed to share. 

It only took a few minutes for her to realize that getting more worried about getting worried was only going to make the song worse. Eventually, the eight year old found a solution. Maybe if she felt happy, her soulmate would get a happy song and then they'd be happier too.

The moment she came up with the plan, she scrambled to get her sketchbook. She always felt happier when she was drawing in her sketchbook. And also cookies! She needed more cookies to make her soulmate happier. 

Then she remembered something her mom had read to her from a magazine.

> _... If a bond is particularly strong, or the soulmates are standing close enough to each other, it's possible to share more specific feelings, and even vague ideas..._

Marinette concentrated on all her positive thoughts and feelings and tried to send them to her soulmate. The little girl's thoughts focused on sending the biggest "It will be alright" in history. 

She had no idea whether it had worked or not, but Marinette was sure that someday it would. She would keep trying every day just in case. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took longer to write han I expected. I was trying to write Marinette, but my head kept jumping to Jason XD
> 
> At least now I know exactly what I'm writing for next chapter.
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and the comments! I swear they give me a boost of happiness whenever I get them.


	5. Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to check the tags if you have any triggers or are trying to avoid certain topics.

December passed by in a rush of trying to keep warm and scrounging up enough food. On some of the colder days, he spent a few hours at the public library. It was a way to keep out of the cold, and the books were a comfort he couldn't otherwise afford. He knew it was a risk, of course. If someone there recognized him, or realized it was school hours, he could get in trouble. He mostly went only when he managed to look his best and he knew there wouldn't be anyone there that cared. 

There were two people who worked at the library with regularity, and a few college kids who helped organize the books, but didn't do much else. 

Ms Kelly was a nice lady who'd known Jason for a while now. She used to recommend books to him and she would even explain a word if he didn't know its meaning. Ms Kelly was now a risk. Jason didn't know if the old lady was aware of his mother's death, but he avoided the library during her shift, just in case. Duncan, on the other hand, was a maybe twenty-five year old kid with messy hair and permanent bags under his eyes. He had started working at the library only a little bit after Jason's mom died, so there was no history there to be worried about. He had seemed wary of Jason the first few times he'd gone in, but as long as Jason didn't make a mess and kept relatively quiet, Duncan kept his attention elsewhere.

Most of December had been a blur, yes, except for a single day. Christmas Eve, Jason walked into Park Row public library, nodding to the bored young man that sat behind the desk. 

"Merry Christmas, Duncan."

Duncan looked at Jason with a raised eyebrow, "Yeah, you too kid." He said, and immediately turned back to his computer. 

Usually, if Jason didn't have any unfinished books to read, he would wander around for a bit. Sometimes he'd find new topics to read about, or new books on topics he liked. 

Jason was a smart kid, and he knew it. He had been a top student before his mom's death, and he knew that if he ever wanted to get off the streets, he'd need to keep being smarter than everyone else. 

However, when he grew tired of studying or whenever he felt particularly lonely, there was a section of the library he headed to without fail. 

The first christmas without his mother was such an occasion. Jason made a beeline for the section reserved for classical literature. Park Row Library wasn't very big, but it still had the book Jason was looking for. 

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn was one of the first books Jason had ever loved. Before she had been consumed by drugs, when Jason was six or seven years old, his mom had read it to him nearly every night as she tucked him in to sleep. 

Now, Jason sat on the floor, his back against the wall. The song in his head that had been radiating happiness all day long became calmer and softer as it did in the late afternoon. Jason wasn't sure what it meant. Maybe his soulmate got very relaxed in the afternoon. Maybe they meditated or did yoga. Jason didn't know, but he relished the calm even as he missed the detail of the morning song. 

He sat there and he read, lulled into a false sense of security by the familiar story and the soft music. He lost himself in the pages. 

Hours later, though the boy hadn't realized that yet, the clearing of a throat sprung him out from his trance. 

Duncan was crouched in front of him, a vague frown that could have been annoyance or concern pulled at his usually stoic face. 

"I'm closing up, kid." He said. 

Jason closed the book with a glance at the window, finally realizing how dark it had gotten outside. 

"Right," the boy said, his voice sounding rough and choked with phlegm. He hastily wiped his eyes with his sleeve, pointlessly trying to hide the tears that had previously fallen unnoticed by him. "I'm leaving."

Jason stood unsteadily, inwardly cursing himself for not moving more often as his right leg was stabbed with the tiny pinpricks of blood flowing back into the limb. If Duncan noticed him stumble, he didn't show it. 

Jason put the book back in its place and walked towards the door. He paused right before exciting, turning his head towards Duncan as the guy called out to him, "Merry Christmas, kid." 

Jason offered him a tight-lipped smile, "You too." He replied, and left without saying anything more. 

He would later think on ways to get rid of Duncan's concern. After all, Jason couldn't have him calling the authorities out of some misguided attempt to help him. But for now, the boy secretly held on to that small hint of worry. 

Days passed, turned into weeks. January held a brutal chill that year. Jason found more than one cold body still huddled in a corner, clutching worn blankets or piles of newspaper. 

Around halfway through February, he walked into one of his usual places. 

The old two-story building had been abandoned for a while, and though it looked like a wreck on the outside, it was sturdy enough inside that it was still mostly whole. There was a moth-eaten couch by the corner and some old odds and ends scattered around. A few empty cans, broken bits of glass, cigarette butts, the works. 

Jason had found it sometime in the last month, and it was one of most frequented sleeping spots. The ceiling leaked in five different spots when it rained. One of the windows was completely missing, covered only by a plank of wood and a weathered piece of tarp that fluttered when there was wind. Another window was cracked in so many places that it seemed like the softest touch would shatter it. The third window was covered in layers of black and brown gunk, but it was whole and its lock was faulty. Jason used this window to make his way in and out if the building. . The whole place was covered with dust and grime, it smelled like humidity and the air inside was stuffy. 

The second floor was only accessible through a rickety set of wooden stairs that had been warped by time and humidity. Half the steps were missing and the ones that remained were hardly stable enough to support even a light man's weight. Jason, however, was a small, thin boy. He was able to go upstairs without too much trouble, and though the second floor was a bit damper and colder, hardly anyone could get there. It was a relatively safe spot to keep some of his stuff as long as he wrapped it up in a plastic bag to keep it dry. It helped that Jason had discovered a loose board that revealed a hole big enough to stash some emergency supplies. It made him feel more secure. 

Jason had gotten a fair amount of money that day and planned on hiding some of it in his little spot. 

It took him a few seconds to realize he wasn't alone in the building. The empty cans he had set up near the door as a sort of alarm system were now scattered across the floor. A sharp intake of breath broke the stillness and the slight creek of wood drew Jason's eye to a small girl trying her hardest to merge into the wall. Her brown eyes were wide and scared. They flickered between Jason and a brown lump of blankets on the floor, leaning against the couch. 

Then the lump coughed. It was an awful sound, loud and rattling. Whoever was under the blankets jerked harshly with every burst of the wheezy cough. 

The girl ran over to the lump of blankets as soon as she unfroze from the shock. "Hey! Hey, breathe." She said, her voice shaking slightly. "It's okay. Just breathe. It's okay."

"I'm fine." The coughing person answered, "I'm okay." The voice was weak and raspy, rough from probably dozens of coughing fits, but it was familiar. 

"Nate?" Jason said, taken aback by the presence of the older boy. "What the hell?" 

A faint chuckle came from the now-shifting lump. Nate sat up against the couch, finally revealing his face. His skin was pale and clammy, and minute trembles shook his entire body. His usual messy curls were limp and plastered to his head with sweat.

"Hey there Jace..." Nate said.

"It's Jason." The younger of the boys snapped back out of habit. 

"... Didn't expect to find ya here."

Jason sighed as the older boy ignored him. That's familiar, at least. He was always 'Jace' when Nate was around. 

"What's wrong with you?" Jason asked him. "You look like death warmed over."

Nate gave him a bitter smile, "Too warm." He says. 

The little girl who had been watching silently finally stepped in, "He has a fever." She said, looking warily at Jason. "And a cough."

Jason narrowed his eyes slightly, "I can see that." He said, with a bit of a bite. "I meant what kind of cough."

"Does it matter?" Nate said, drawing his blankets closer as he shivers. "I feel like shit either way."

Jason took this in. They obviously hadn't gone to a doctor, even though the wheezing breaths Nate was taking sounded like something was very wrong with his lungs. Jason knew this was bad. Even before the streets, when he still had a home, there were a few cases of neighbors dying because they got too sick and they didn't have enough medicine. Old Mrs Nelson had gotten a bad case of pneumonia, and her cough had sounded almost exactly like Nate's. She was hospitalized by the end, he thought, and she still didn't make it. 

Jason took a deep breath and then turned towards the girl. "And who are you?" He asked, looking at her through narrow eyes

"Zoe." The girl said, hesitating for a moment before adding, "His sister."

"Bullshit." Jason said, "I've seen Nate around for a while, but I haven't seen you ever." 

"It's true!" The girl cried, "I'm his half-sister, but I only ran away last week."

"Ran away?" Jason said skeptically, "Then why don't you just take your brother home?" 

"Half-brother." Croaked Nate, cutting in. "Same dad. Different mom."

Zoe nodded, "We don't live together."

"What about your parents then?" Jason said, aiming the question at Nate. 

"Dad got killed two years back." Nate said, if reluctantly, "Mother… _sucks_." 

"Hospital." Jason said more than asked. 

"No money." Nate said, "And I'm not going back to _her_." He practically growled, devolving into another coughing fit. 

By the time Nate stopped coughing, he had worn himself out, slumping into himself with exhaustion. 

"Sleep." Jason told him, "I'll keep an eye on your sis."

Once Nate was asleep, Jason kept thinking of possible things to do. He was half-tempted to drag the boy to a clinic, but then he probably would go back to his mother and Jason didn't know how bad the situation was. However, it soon occurred to him that someone might, even if she was about to fall asleep. 

"Hey kid," Jason asked Zoe, shaking her shoulder slightly to rouse her. "Tell me about his mom."

Zoe immediately drew herself up, "He's _not_ going back!" She practically hissed. 

"Listen." Jason said, trying to keep his voice down. "I think I know what's wrong with him, and it's not good. So I _need you_ to tell me about his mom."

Zoe looked content to simply glare at him, so Jason added "He could _die_."

Hey eyes widened with fear then, and her face paled dramatically. After a moment, she nodded with a small sniff. 

"She's _mean_." Zoe said, "She hates Nate, so she didn't take care of him very well. And she hit him sometimes." 

"Did Nate tell you this?" Jason asked her, softly. 

Zoe shook her head, her eyes now shining with tears. "I saw her do it once, when I was visiting and she didn't know I was there." She said. "And he always had bruises."

Jason didn't like the picture she was painting. It wasn't something he'd never heard of, but it made his blood boil with anger. He hated it when parents hurt their kids. "Anything else?" 

Zoe hesitated before nodding, "Nate said he _couldn't_ go back home," She started, fully crying by then, "He _couldn't_ go back home because this time she would _kill_ him."

Jason drew the crying girl in for a hug, and she clung to him like a lifeline. His jaw was clenched and he wanted to punch something, but first he had to take care of Zoe. He had told Nate he would, after all. 

Zoe fell asleep soon after. Her head against Jason's chest. Jason didn't sleep. He had too much to think about and not enough options. He didn't know enough to take care of Nate, but Zoe knew even less. 

Eventually, his soul mate's song abandoned the calm it entered every afternoon and resumed its usual course. Jason might have imagined it, but it sounded almost as worried as he was, for a while. Then the melody smoothed out into a peaceful tune. 

The night passed with no answers or new ideas. Nothing that Jason had in his backpack could help him with the situation, other than maybe the painkillers. 

When Nate woke up coughing, Jason kept him company. He gave Nate water and a little bit of food he had stored away.

The next day, when his fever got worse, Jason used one of his shirts as a wet rag to try and bring down the fever. Zoe ran back and forth fetching water from the park's drinking fountains. The day was almost over when Nate fell asleep and refused to wake up. 

Sometime after the music left it's daily calm, Jason finally succumbed to sleep, exhausted. 

He woke up to Zoe's voice, thick with desperation and frantically calling her brother's name.

"Please wake up!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was not entirely how I thought this chapter would go...
> 
> Poor kids. 
> 
> (As always, thanks for reading, commenting and giving kudos, you guys rock)


	6. Catharsis

Marinette felt useless. It wasn't an exageration, nor was it a child's drama. The little girl who loved to draw, to bake with her parents, to laugh with her friends... She felt absolutely, undeniably useless.

She had known that something bad had happened to her soulmate. She had known that, though things seemed to get better, things still weren't okay. She had known that there both, good days and bad days.

She did her best to send happiness through the bond, to send joy and laughter and peace. Sometimes, it even seemed to work.

The 25th of January Marinette went to sleep like any other night. When she woke up, she was surprised to find that her soulmate was also awake. The deep, soft bass that led the song when her soulmate slept had instead been replaced by the slurred tones of exhaustion. Above it all, Marinette could feel the steady thrum of fear. 

As the day went on, an edge of panic joined the song, with jarring shifts and a newfound unpredictability. 

Even at school, she couldn't concentrate. Her notes for the day were a mess of half-written sentences and random numbers with no context. 

Those around Marinette must have noticed she was distracted, because they repeatedly asked her if she was okay. She tried to wave away their worry, but she knew both of her parents and Nino could tell something was wrong. Eventually, Marinette caved. 

"The song is a bit weird today." She told them, "It's very worried and... Anxious?" 

The girl didn't say much more than that, going back to her special notebook and writing down notes just as often as she paged through the book for any sort of answer. She didn't see her parents exchanging a look, and she barely noticed Nino's worried frown.

Marinette spent the rest of the day trying to calm her soulmate, but unlike some of her past successes, nothing seemed to change in the song. 

That night, it took a long time for Marinette to fall asleep. When she woke up, she wanted to scream. She didn't. But she did cry, and went to hug her parents. 

The song was cold and slow. It cried with loneliness and pain and _guilt_. Marinette was almost nine years old, but she had never felt such guilt before. 

It was like it had been before, but it was also completely different. The cold was biting instead of numbing, and though the song was slow, it was still sharp. It was a different tune, and a different rhythm. It was still very painful for Marinette. 

She told her parents of drowning in loneliness, and she told them of the sharp cold. She told Nino, with some hesitation, of the guilt. 

She told no one of the undercurrent of anger that simmered softly below it all.

* * *

It didn't take as long as the last time for the cold to recede. The buzz of guilt also faded, becoming a faint thrum that only emerged on particularly bad days. However, the simmering anger remained. Sometimes it peaked, with sharp strokes and growing volume. Sometimes it gave life to other sounds, like the bold strums of determination or the deeper slide of sadness. Sometimes, the anger was almost undetectable, nothing but a faint pulse in the background. Still, it never left, only growing or receding as each day demanded. 

A few days after this second incident, Marinette's parents informed her that they wanted to find her some help. They bought her books and magazines. They took her to the library and to talks aimed at children with soulmates. They told her of experts and coaches, of guides and resources. 

They told her the name of a psychologist who had a soulmate of her own, and who helped other people with soulmate related problems. 

Three weeks later, Sabine called to make an appointment. 

* * *

Marinette walked into the waiting room not knowing what to expect. She felt a bit bad for having to go to a psychologist in the first place, feeling like she should be able to handle the situation without a stranger's help. Even so, she was a little bit curious. She wondered if it would be like in the movies, with Marinette laying down on a long couch as the psychologist sat across from her, periodically writing notes while looking at Marinette over the rim of her glasses. 

Sabine gave Marinette's shoulder a gentle squeeze and guided her towards the chairs that lined the small room. Then, she turned to the receptionist behind the counter and said, "Good afternoon, we have an appointment with Dr. Laurent." 

The young man nodded slightly even as he typed at his computer, "Name?" He asked.

"Dupain-Cheng." Marinette's mom replied. 

The receptionist nodded again, stronger this time. He glanced up at Sabine with an easy smile and said, "Dr. Laurent will see you in a minute." 

Marinette's mom quickly thanked him and went to join her daughter at the seats. 

"Maman?" Marinette said softly, looking down at her hands and fidgeting with the edge of her blouse, "Do we really have to do this?" 

Sabine put an arm over her daughter's shoulders and drew her in for a side hug. "Oh honey, I just don't like seeing you so worried." She said. "Your dad and I want to help you, but we don't know what it's like to have a soulmate.   
Dr Laurent does, so she can guide you where we can't."

Marinette nodded, leaning into the warmth of her mother's arms as they waited for the receptionist to call them. Marinette couldn't help but wonder if her soulmate had a mother to do this with. She decided to concentrate on the feeling, just in case. 

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence, and Marinette's nerves simmered down. By the time the receptionist called her name, she was determined to get something out of the appointment.

The room was not exactly what Marinette had pictured, but it was similar. Instead of a long couch and a chair, there were two soft-looking armchairs and a blue loveseat arranged around a low table. There were a couple of potted plants by the window and a few shelves full of books and small decorations.

Dr. Laurent was a woman with soft eyes and a kind smile, with laugh lines to match them. "Hello, you must be Marinette." She said, standing from her seat and offering her hand to Marinette. 

The girl shook it with a smile, hoping it looked genuine and that her handshake was okay. She didn't know how much a psychologist could tell from that, but she knew body language was a thing.

"Hello, Dr. Laurent." Marinette answered. 

The doctor then turned towards Sabine, greeting her and shaking her hand too. 

"Please," Dr. Laurent said, gesturing towards the sitting area, "take a seat."

Marinette sat on the loveseat with her mom while the doctor sat on one of the armchairs. 

"I've already spoken with your mom, but this is the first time you and I have met, so let's start by introducing ourselves properly." The doctor said, which made sense to Marinette. "My name is Dr. Isabelle Laurent, but you can call me Belle or Isabelle, if you like. Your parents asked me to help you with your soultrack"

"My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I like to be called Marinette." The girl said, "My- my soultrack is fine. It's just, I think my soulmate doesn't have a very happy life. I'm worried. "

"That's normal. If you think your soulmate is sad or in pain, it makes sense that you feel worried or scared, or any other number of things. All we're going to do is try to help you understand and manage those feelings." Dr. Isabelle said, "Is that okay?"

Marinette nodded, though she still privately hoped to find a way to help her soulmate. "That sounds okay."

It sounded a bit like they were telling her to ignore her soulmate, and that didn't feel right to Marinette.

Dr. Isabelle gave her a look like she knew what Marinette was thinking, but she didn't say anything. Marinette wasn't even sure if she had correctly interpreted the look, or even if it was her guilty conscience and no look was actually given.

"If you decide you want to keep talking to me, for the first few sessions, I'd like you to have your mom or dad with us just until you get a bit more comfortable." Dr. Isabelle said. "Then, we can have one of them here for half the session so that you get more privacy during the other half, or it could even be just the two of us, if you want."

"That's fine, Dr. Isabelle." Marinette said, nodding once again. She could kind of understand why the doctor was planning the sessions like that. Having her parents would give her comfort, but there were things she didn't want to tell her parents, because she knew they'd just be worried.

Dr. Isabelle gave her a gentle smile, "Well then, let's get started." She said. "Why don't you tell me a little more about yourself?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!
> 
> I wanted to get this chapter up earlier, but christmas is fairly distracting.
> 
> As always, thank you so much reading! I hope you enjoyed it and I wish you a good day.


	7. Work

After Jason managed to get Zoe's address out of her, he dropped the girl off near her home and stuck nearby to make sure she went in. A woman with the same wild curls scooped Zoe up into a desperate hug as soon as the front door opened. Jason tried to ignore the pang of longing for his own mom, even if it had been years since she had hugged him like that. It was a bitter pill to swallow that even if she was alive right now, she wouldn't greet him with a hug like that. Nate's mother wouldn't have hugged him either if he had gone back home.

It wasn't fair, Jason thought, that Nate was beaten and abandoned while his sister was clearly loved. 

Jason wasn't some starry-eyed kid who though everyone had mommies and daddies that loved them. His own dad had never wanted him, and though he knew that his mom had loved him, a part of him resented Catherine. It was something he didn't like to think about, and he felt guilty for it, but the small piece of Jason that still wanted hugs and bedtime stories... It blamed her for not being a mom to him during the last few year.

But now his mom was dead, and Nate was dead, and Jason wanted to scream, but Nate's mother wasn't there to scream at. There was only a little girl who lost her brother and a woman crying with relief at finding her daughter. That small piece of Jason that he tried so hard to ignore, wondered: why couldn't she love Nate as much as she loved her daughter?

It was a bitter thought, and the more he dwelled on it the more he wanted to go up to the woman and demand answers. Jason took one last look at Zoe, clearly shaking with hiccoughs and sobs that rattled her entire body, and then he walked away.

The next few nights were the farthest from peaceful sleep that he could get while still actually sleeping. He tried to sink into his soulmate's song, willing it to drown out everything. It didn't work very well, or at least not as well as it used to. Even during its calm moments, the song now carried an undercurrent of worry that felt too close to fear. It wasn't a nice development, as far as Jason was concerned. He was mildly annoyed that the song couldn't act as his lullaby anymore, especially considering everything from the last few days. He was also annoyed at himself for being annoyed with a— probably innocent— stranger. 

All in all, his nights weren't very restful and his days passed in a dull haze of spiteful determination. Jason had made it this far, and he was going to live past the rest of the winter, one way or another. 

Jason hadn't met up with Nate all that often, but they had traded tips every once in a while. They hadn't been friends exactly, but they had had something close to friendship. They spent more than one cold night chatting about this street's thugs or this other gang's territory. Nate butchered Jason's name, and teased him about his "morals" as he told him of some easy jobs. Jason made stupid jokes and made sure Nate knew of the thugs loitering around the block.

Jason knew Nate ran errands for one of the local gangs, but he also made some coin from jacking tyres. He also knew the guy Nate sold them to only hired a few kids at a time. Less chance of blabbermouths this way, according to Nate. Thing was, Nate wasn't ever going to show up there again. There would be a job opening, if the old geezer hadn't hired anyone else by now. 

Jason had only caught the older boy at work a couple of times, but he was sure he could do it given a few tries.

The used auto parts store was in a relatively quiet street. Inside was a tall middle-aged man with a scruffy beard and arms thicker than Jason's head. Jason had never met the store's owner, but given what he'd heard, this guy seemed like a fair bet. 

Jason stood near the entrance, keeping carefully away from anything too dangerous or expensive-looking. 

"Hey," He called out to the man. "Are you Buff?"

The man grunted, briefly glancing at Jason before looking back down at whatever he was working on. "What do you want?" Buff asked.

Jason crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm looking for work." He said. 

"Don't got any for you." Buff said immediately. "Now buy something or get outta here."

Jason didn't move. "Kid called Nate used to work for you, right?" 

Buff gave an irritated sigh, finally turning towards Jason. The boy looked him straight in the eye, even though his instincts told him to keep an eye on the heavy wrench still clutched tightly in the man's hand. 

"Listen," Buff said, "The little punk hasn't shown his face for days. I have nothing to do with whatever trouble he's in."

Jason felt his jaw clench for a moment. "Nate's dead." He said. "He got sick and died."

"Right." Buff said, raising an eyebrow. "Shame, and all that. But what's it to me, now?" 

Jason was almost tense with the need to clench his fists, but he forced himself to relax his hands. Nate could be annoying, sure, but he did good work, and he was a good friend. Jason wanted to punch this guy. "I want a job." He said, instead. "You've got a spot." 

Buff rolled his eyes, "Whatever, kiddo. Do you even know how to change a tyre?" 

Jason narrowed his eyes slightly, "I learn fast."

The man must have gotten bored of the conversation, because he turned back to his work, only waving a lazy hand towards the back of the store. "Bill will teach ya. Out back." He said, and that was that. 

Bill was a tall guy, maybe eighteen years old, and with a nasty scowl to match Buff's. He also had some muscle on him and pretty wide shoulders— more than enough to snap Jason in half if he wanted to. He was fairly thin, unlike the thick bulk of Buff's, but Jason could still see the family resemblance. They both had a thick pair of what Jason privately dubbed as "angry eyebrows of doom". They also made him feel like a tiny shrimp of a person, given that the top of his head barely even made it to their chests. 

"What are you doing back here?" Bill asked, lifting his chin like he wasn't already several heads taller than Jason. 

"I work here now." The younger boy said, doing his best to seem unruffled. "Buff said you'd teach me." 

Bill seemed annoyed, though not entirely unsurprised. 

"Of course he did." He said, and gestured to the corner, where there was a crate full of tools. "Grab a lug wrench and follow me."

Jason hurried to do as he'd been told, glad that he knew what a lug wrench even was. Bill moved fast, and had started walking away the moment he showed Jason where the tools were. The first few moments after grabbing the wrench were a mad scramble as Jason tried to find Bill again. At last he caught sight of him walking away from the store, and he hurried to catch up as he was led through the dark alleys that sprung from Park Row. 

Jason followed behind Bill, unable to pay as much attention to his surroundings as he would like. Bill's long legs ate up ground much quicker than Jason could easily keep up with without some running here and there. 

"First thing you gotta do," said Bill after nearly a half hour of silence, "is find a target."

Jason was so taken aback by Bill actually speaking, that he almost ran straight into him when the older boy stopped walking. Bill must have noticed, because he sent a quick glare Jason's way. Then again, Jason supposed Bill might just dislike him. 

Jason recognized the buildings around him. He had a hiding spot not too far from here, and the old lady from the Italian place a block away sometimes gave leftovers to street kids if you got there early enough. 

The older boy gestured down the street towards Orion. The nightclub was fairly popular around these parts of town, and though Jason had never been inside, he knew it was a nest of opportunities for easy money. Still, it was early, so it wouldn't open for at least another hour. 

Jason raised curious eyes towards Bill, "What about it?" He asked. 

Bill, to his credit, looked like he really did try not to roll his eyes. "It's a popular nightclub in the bad parts of town. Rich kids love that shit." He said. "They come here in their fancy cars and leave them parked out here, unprotected and in plain sight."

Jason could see what Bill was getting at, but he really didn't know how that was supposed to help them right now. The boy narrowed his eyes slightly, just knowing that Bill was going to think his next words were stupid. 

"It's closed." Jason said, and was rewarded with a look that clearly questioned his intelligence, or rather, the lack thereof. 

"It's not gonna stay that way." Bill said, much too slowly for Jason's taste. "We're waiting 'til it's not."

"Right…" Jason said, wondering why they had seemingly rushed to be here when there was clearly no need. "So you had me running after you for shits and giggles?" 

Bill glared at Jason once again. "For now," He said, thick eyebrows drawing down unimpressed over his eyes. "I'm gonna tell ya what to do, and you're gonna listen, got it?" 

Jason narrowed his own eyes in response and nodded. He was gonna show this guy just how good a listener he was. 

So, for the next hour and a half, Jason listened as Bill half-taught him, half-threatened him. He got helpful tips regarding what cars to go after and also got to hear a rant about stupid rich people parking in the middle of nowhere. He got lectured on not getting into trouble and on being on his own if he did. The older boy also felt the need to clearly outline what would happen if he told the cops about any of it. He went over this many times. 

Eventually, their moment came in the form of a blond twenty-something with too much hair-gel. It wasn't a Benz or a Lambo, but the blue Subaru was enough of a catch for Bill to nudge Jason to attention. It looked brand new and very shiny, way too nice to be parked down an offshoot of Crime Alley. Even better, it was parked far away enough from the nightclub to avoid attention. It was the perfect practice dummy, and Jason made sure to show how useful he could be. 

Afterwards, with a dismissive "Good enough." from Bill and a smirk of his own, Jason found himself unlawfully employed by the grumpy owner of the used parts store. 

It wasn't long before Jason met the other kids working for Buff. Manny was around fifteen, Jake was almost twelve, and Alex was somewhere between fourteen and eighteen. Jason honestly couldn't tell, and the only girl of the group didn't volunteer an answer.

As the youngest, Jason drew a fair amount of ribbing from the older kids, though Manny was nice enough to teach Jason a trick or two. 

Jason soon found himself with less money related worries than he could remember for the past few months. It wasn't enough that he could afford brand new clothes or to waste it on books and other guilty pleasures, but it kept him fed well-enough as long as he could find enough conveniently placed cars. Having the job made him feel safer in some ways, but there was always a niggling of guilt. Jason himself wasn't sure if it was because of morality reasons or if it was related to basically taking advantage of his sort-of-friend's death. Maybe it was both. 

Whatever the reason, it wasn't anywhere near strong enough to get Jason to quit. Knowing he could afford enough food, or a blanket or even medical supplies, was too big a deal to let it go because of guilt. 

Strangely enough, he enjoyed it sometimes. The work was exhilarating, a race against time, and something Jason was surprisingly good at. He took pride in quickly becoming one of the best in the little group of thieves and the chance to steal some asshole's tyres was really just a bonus. 

Once, months later and with information provided by Trix, he even got the chance to steal the tyres from a john who treated the girls pretty badly. Afterwards, Trix and Ella gave him a glass of lemonade and a slice of pie. 

That's not to say there weren't dangers. Jason almost got caught a couple of times, and once even got a punch to the face before he had the presence of mind to kick the car's owner in the groin and run away as fast as he could. He walked around with a black eye for a while after that, which made it harder to escape scrutiny when out in the streets. He eventually had to cough up enough to buy some cheap drugstore foundation and hide the bruise. He'd been planning on using that money to get a little something from the second hand bookstore, but his need to get by unnoticed was greater than his need to own a book. 

It was a good bit of luck that the book remained unsold until Jason could afford to buy it. The battered copy of the Hobbit probably seemed too damaged to buy, but it was mostly the cover that was damaged. Some spots were almost worn smooth from touch, and some pages still had visible folds at the corners, but it still had all its pages. More than that, on the blank page right after the front cover, there was a scrawled mess of blue-inked cursive. It took a few minutes for Jason to decipher the penmanship disaster the first time, but now he could read it easily. Part of him recoiled at the sweet, kinda cheesy message, but the part of Jason that breathed in the classics of literature, that could quote Austen and Shakespeare and C.S. Lewis… Jason wanted to hope. 

> _Your song called to me like a kingdom under a mountain. Thank you for being my home._
> 
> _-Ben_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!   
> Kudos and comments feed my soul <3
> 
> As always, this fic has no beta, so if you spot any mistakes, feel free to tell me. 
> 
> I hope you all have a good 2021  
> :)


	8. Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is probably a good enough moment to tell you all that I have never read a batman comic in my life. All my knowledge comes from fanfic and movies.

Marinette breathed in as deeply as she could, the count in her mind steadily rising. By the time she reached the fourth count, she felt as if her lungs would burst. She held her breath till the count of seven and then let it out till the count of four. She repeated this a couple of times, concentrating on her breathing and keeping herself calm. No thoughts about fashion design, or cute boys, or homework. Just calm.

It was hard. Marinette never knew how hard it could be to keep her thoughts from drifting until she started these exercises.

Dr. Isabelle had been glad to hear about Marinette's Soul Book. She also encouraged her to write about her own feelings, and even how her soultrack made her feel. It was a new experience for Marinette, who was so used to writing about the song that writing about herself seemed awkward and at times impossible. Still, she formed the habit and filled page after page with confused annotations about her feelings. 

The visits with the psychologist were not anything that little Marinette had ever considered. It was something she had seen in movies and had hardly ever even been mentioned in a real life context. 

It was intimidating at first. Even though the first meeting had gone pretty well, Marinette had still been a bit nervous about going to therapy. Not only was the therapy itself intimidating, but Marinette was also struck with wishing for the doctor to like her. 

As far as Marinette could see, Dr. Isabelle was a kind and beautiful woman who spent her life helping other people. It was almost like a story out of the fairytales her parents read to her. 

It also didn't hurt that the doctor didn't treat Marinette like she was a baby. Unlike Mme. Bernard, one of her teachers at school, who treated all of them like they were five year olds in need of a nap. 

Marinette was happy, and a little bit proud, that the doctor treated her like one of the big kids. She was afraid that if she cried like a baby or made too much of a fuss, the doctor would start treating her like Mme. Bernard treated her students. Really, Marinette just wanted to be liked by Dr. Isabelle. 

So Marinette acted on her best behavior. She said please and thank you, she used the doctor's title and last name, she sat up straight with her ankles crossed, and she tried to only speak when she was asked to speak. The last one had varying levels of success, sometimes leading to a very quiet girl who burst into rambling monologues whenever a question was asked. 

It took a few sessions for Marinette to get comfortable enough to relax, but once she did, her sessions with Dr. Isabelle seemed to go much better.

During her second one-on-one session with Dr. Isabelle, Marinette decided to speak about a certain something for the very first time. She told the psychologist about the anger she could feel in the song.

"How do you feel, about the anger?" The woman had asked her, "Does it make you feel different when it is stronger or softer?"

Marinette took a moment to think. "I feel... Worried. A little sad too, but more worried." She was quiet for a second before saying, very quietly, "And sometimes, if I'm angry, I get even angrier."

"Sometimes, when soulmates feel the same thing, it creates a loop." Dr. Isabelle explained, "They feed each other's emotions, like adding fuel to a fire. If both are happy, they encourage each other to be happier, if both are sad, they can encourage each other to be sadder."

"I think that could be happening with my soulmate and I. Sometimes... I used to try to make the song happier? Like, I did things that made me happy so that they heard a happy song, and maybe they would be happier too." Marinette said, unsure if that sounded a bit dumb and fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

"Do you think that it worked? Did it make their song happier?"

Marinette nodded hesitantly after a moment, smiling shyly, "I think so. Not all the time, but sometimes."

"I'm glad to hear that." Dr. Isabelle said, smiling too. "You also said your anger was... Amplified? With the song?"

"Um... Yes. It's easier to be angry when the song is angry." Marinette said, looking down at her hands. "I don't like that very much."

Dr. Isabelle looked at her for a moment. "Have you ever tried to find emotions in music? To tell whether a song is sad, happy, afraid?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure. I do that all the time with my friend Nino." Marinette said, not really seeing where this was going. She then added, "But I'm better at it with my song."

"Do you know why?" Dr. Isabelle asked.

Marinette blanched for a moment, blue eyes going wide and blinking a few times. "Um. Because I hear it all the time?" She said, a questioning lilt in her voice.

Dr. Isabelle smiled, "Yes, that is part of it, but also because of the nature of soultracks." She explained, "You see, it's not just music that you share, but a connection of the soul itself. Many great musicians have tried to share their soultracks with the world, and though they are always beautiful pieces, the feelings they transmit are never as clear to other people."

Marinette had never thought of it that way, but looking back, it made sense. She had tried before to sing or hum parts of her song to her parents and to Nino, but they never quite got what she wanted to share. When she sung them the fleeting waves of reluctant joy after sadness, they smiled at "such a happy song" and at the good mood her soulmate must be in. When she hummed moments of peaceful contemplation amongst times of trouble, they wondered at the "pretty lullaby" and the "utter calm" it must bring. They never grasped all of the subtleties, the fine detail that told Marinette so much and yet so little.

"That is why," Dr. Isabelle continued, "it is important that you learn to separate your own feelings from your soulmate's. Especially because the bond will keep getting stronger as you grow older."

Marinette perked up, "Does that mean I'll be able to understand the song better?"

Dr. Isabelle's eyes sparkled with what Marinette had come to recognize as a fond sort of exasperated amusement.

"Yes Marinette, you will get a clearer understanding of the song," the woman said, now smiling gently at the girl, "and with some practice, you will even be able to share general thoughts and ideas."

And with that, Marinette finally saw just how much these sessions could help her. She had already known that Dr. Isabelle knew a lot of stuff about soulmates. She had also hoped to learn a thing or two, but really, she never expected the sheer amount of knowledge that the doctor seemed to hold. In Marinette's eyes, Dr. Isabelle was suddenly as wise as the high priestess from that game Nino liked. She was like Dumbledore, but much prettier and also actually real.

Unaware of the wide smile on her face, Marinette's mind raced through all the possible things she could learn about the song. The things she'd be able to do!

"It will take practice." Dr. Isabelle told her. "And time."

Marinette seemed to take this as a personal challenge, no matter how many times Dr. Isabelle reminded her to be patient. Every day, Marinette wrote about the song and her emotions, and every day she tried to do more. She did what she could to control her emotions and send what she wanted through the bond. She wasn't sure if she succeeded, but she liked to think that sometimes she did.

And time did pass. Days turned into weeks. Marinette's ninth birthday came and went, leaving behind warm memories of cake, hugs and laughter. She filled notebook after notebook with her observations, keeping them carefully stacked alongside her sketchbooks, of which there were also many.

Designing had become her passion, and it was readily apparent that she was good at it. 

She had liked fashion for a while, trying on her mom's too-big clothes and staring through the windows of the most fashionable clothing stores in Paris. Then her parents took her to a fashion exposition where designers talked about their job and models walked the runway dressed in the most wonderful clothes.

Marinette got home with dozens of ideas fluttering around her mind. That night marked the first of many designing sprees to come. It was also a night of excitedly scribbled notes on her notebook.

A few hours after her usual bedtime, well into her design spyral, she felt a slight current of curiosity enter the song. As the night advanced, a tinge of confusion joined the growing curiosity, which soon grew enough to be called inquisitive.

Marinette didn't know how she knew, but she could tell the curiosity was aimed at her. It wasn't often that she felt such a clear emotion from the song.

Dr. Isabelle confirmed it during their next session.

"Thoughts and emotions aimed towards your soulmate tend to be clearer than just general moods and states of being." She said, "Your soulmate probably also hears your song clearer when you focus on them."

Marinette had been pleased to hear that, though she couldn't stop the blush that spread over her face once she realized what it meant. After all, she had tried to send emotions to her soulmate _half a million times_ already.

* * *

Her days went on with an extra burst of concentration every morning when she woke up and every night when she went to sleep. Marinette figured that saying good morning and good night was the polite thing to do.

It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she hoped for an answer. Though she wouldn't object if she got one.

In fact, every once in a while, right after her greeting, there was a small burst of contentment swelling with chords of gratefulness and faint relief.

Marinette wrote down every one of those moments. They were special to her, and they always put her in a good mood. 

As time went by, the answers grew more frequent, though they didn't happen every day and they sometimes stopped for a while when her soulmate was having a tough time. 

Her days at school went by as usual, and her collection of sketchbooks started growing even faster than her soulmate notebooks. The simple stitch-work her mom had taught her was being put to good use as Marinette experimented with different patterns and fabrics. It wasn't long before her room was host to a variety of experimental clothing and tangled piles of thread and fabric scraps.

Her skills grew alongside her collection of video tutorials, books, and magazines. Her interests spanned from knitting to embroidery and crochet, never growing tired of learning new ways to create stuff. 

She even started helping out at the bakery much more often in exchange of a larger allowance, as per Tom's suggestion. This also had the unintended side effect of doubling the amount of answers to her greetings, as she started waking up earlier. Much to her parents' pride and amused exasperation, the increased amount of spending money soon caused the house to fill up with rolls of fabric and half-finished creations.

The Dupain-Cheng home was a sort of giant calendar. Light fabrics and bright colors during spring and summer, heavier fabrics and deeper, muted tones during autumn and winter.

* * *

One day, as the colors of spring shone both within and outside the home, Marinette woke to a tinkling trickle of fear overlaid with the louder, bolder sounds of determination. For a second there was the ringing peal of satisfaction... And then the trickle of fear grew to a light flow. 

Marinette was not surprised. This kind of thing happened every once in a while. But this time there was something about the fear that seemed to almost swell into awe. Almost. But not quite. 

So Marinette continued with her morning, though with some apprehension. 

It was an interesting day, with the song ranging from reluctant curiosity and mistrust to fearful wariness to outright incredulity and... Weirdly enough... Hope. 

The days following that were not all that different. A steady trickle of fear interspersed with moments of smug satisfaction, near panic and hope. 

It was all very strange. There was an undercurrent of tense expectation that seemed to swell after every burst of satisfaction and then faded under the strum of confusion and the airy sounds of hope. 

Marinette was very confused. She hoped it wouldn't affect her soulmate, because they were already feeling enough confusion, but she also wondered if they were feeding their confusion to each other. One way or another, her hands were nearly always cramping due to her constant writing in her soulmate notebook. She really wanted to know what this was about. 

Then, to her relief, the trickle of fear became less and less frequent and hope had become a much steadier tune. 

(She tried to ignore the low buzz of expectation that still lingered under it all. When she thought too much about it, she started feeling like something was bound to go wrong sooner or later.)

Either way, Marinette couldn't help to point out, in the privacy of her mind, that there was a beautifully poetic symetry in her soulmates' song blossoming in spring. 

She didn't know what happened, why or how it happened, but by the time spring was over, her soulmate was humming with a tentative happiness that made Marinette's smile soften without her consent. 

Her little greetings started being answered more often than not. 

* * *

As summer rolled by once more, so did Marinette's birthday. As was her habit, she sent a good morning in the form of a concentrated burst of everything positive she could think of. The now ten-year-old must have been giddier than she thought, or something different must have shown in her emotions. Either way, after she sent her usual morning greeting, the answer she got was almost immediate and swamped with the swinging, feather-light notes of fond amusement. It was a wonderful tune, with genuine happiness and warmth and overlaid with the soft fuzz of sleepiness. 

It was the best birthday present _ever_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to get this posted last night, but I just had to add a little bit more to the chapter. I hope the extra 500 words make up for being a day late.
> 
> This fic has no beta, so please feel free to point out any mistakes. 
> 
> In other news, I have never had so many kudos, bookmarks and comments before so THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!
> 
> I can't believe there's over a hundred people subscribed to this fic.
> 
> Love you all <3


	9. Crime Alley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that the author has not read the comics and only knows stuff through fanfic, movies and dubious research. For this chapter I looked at every version I could find of Batman and Jason's first meeting and cherry-picked to my heart's desire. 
> 
> CW: (Other than the usual stuff) Vague mention of prostitution (not Jason)

" _Ey_! Come back here!" Manny said, chasing after them. The two boys ignored him, running as fast as they could with the heavy backpacks on their backs. It slowed them down some, but they both knew it was nothing compared to the large duffel bag the eldest was carrying. Manny wasn't a particularly large boy. He was too thin for his otherwise naturally stocky frame, and he stood no taller than 5'4. Still, the boys knew that the little bulk Manny had was made primarily of muscle, and that, alongside being the eldest, left him stuck with carrying the heaviest load. 

Jake chanced a quick glance behind them before letting loose a sharp laugh in between heavy breaths. "We're losing him."

"Good." Said Jason, face splitting into a sharp grin, "Now I just have to beat _you_."

Jake made a vaguely offended noise, "Oh come on, I thought we were a _team_." The blond boy said, already struggling to keep up with Jason's pace. 

"Dude," Jason said, trying to not let on how winded he was getting, "you're the one who said we should race back."

Jake practically panted through his next words, "Yeah, but I meant _against Manny_."

"You just want to hold this over him so he'll give you some of that chocolate he's been saving." Jason retorted.

Jake stumbled a bit as they rounded the next corner, but still managed to say, drawn out enough to be almost a whine, "But I haven't had any in forever. An' I _love_ chocolate."

"Same." Jason said, pushing an extra burst of speed and gaining a good chunk of distance between Jake and him.

At last, Jason reached the building where they kept some of their tools and sometimes stored their temporarily acquired goods. A few seconds later, Jake joined him inside, panting heavily and red in the face.

Jason teased him a little about coming in second, and Jake half-heartedly defended himself by pointing out Jason's ' _freakish breathing ability_ '. Jason laughed and got the feeling Jake would have been laughing too if he had enough air to do so.

Manny stepped into the warehouse nearly a minute later. His cheeks were flushed and he was breathing a bit heavier than usual, but he had a smile on his face as he threw his duffel bag at Jake, who fumbled to catch the heavy load.

" _Ya estuvo_. Put that stuff away and I'll give you both some chocolate." Manny said, stretching his back and shoulders. "You've been _friegue que friegue_ for days, and as much as I like you kids, it's getting annoying."

Jake perked up immediately and practically bounced away with the duffel bag. Jason grinned, picking up Jake's discarded backpack and saying to Manny, "Alex is gonna be pissed if she doesn't get chocolate too."

"You know, you really should start putting the tools away. Buff gets all bent out of shape when things aren't just right, and then Duncan gets all huffy and takes it out on us." Manny said, which was true, but was also just an obvious deflection. 

"Alex is gonna be pretty huffy too if she's the only one without chocolate." Jason pointed out. 

"You guys do realize Doña Adriana gave me a single chocolate bar. As in, one." Manny said. He sighed a moment later at Jason's unrepentant shrug. "I'll give Alex a piece when I see her."

"It's not our fault old ladies love you so much." Jason added as he dragged the tools to their proper places.

"You know, by that logic, you should share your loot with us too." Jake piped in. "It's not our fault you're so good at jacking tires, right?"

Jason smirked right back at him. "Nah, it's just not my fault if you suck at it."

The blond boy pouted slightly, "I still don't get how you get them off so fast."

"Come on, I'll show you." Jason said, with a fond roll of his eyes.

The boys headed back out to find an easy target, a reminder from Manny to be careful chasing them out through the door. 

Jason squinted up at the sky for a moment, realizing it was darker outside than he had been expecting. 

"Hey Jakey, what time is it?" He asked the other boy. 

"Um. Around six, I think?" The blonde boy answered. "Why?" 

"No reason." Jason said. Except there _actually was a reason_. His soulmates song was unusually... Not-peaceful? It was much louder, much more _awake_ than it usually was by this time. Weird. "Come on, let's check around the Bowery."

* * *

Time passed strangely for Jason. Sometimes it seemed to crawl on, just day after day of stealing tires and picking pockets. Day after day of grimy buildings and leaky ceilings. Sometimes time rushed past him. Learning the dynamics of Buff's kid helpers suddenly turned into friendly competitions and some extra support for dangerous night. Practically whole months passed by without Jason's notice, only really being marked by the changing weather.

Sometimes things were good and Jason could splurge on a chili dog from the cart on 6th. Other times there were few safe targets to be found and his food stash dwindled to a can of soup and a pack of crackers.

(Jason knew that was partly his fault for going all bleeding heart if the other kids in the group didn't have a large enough stash for the tough times. But honestly, Jake was freaking _tiny_ , Manny was too thin, and Alex was often a bad day away from joining the working girls, no matter how young she was.)

All in all, life just went on. The kids helped each other out during winter, at Jason's suggestion. (He wasn't going to let any of them get sick the way Nate did.) And they all tried to make sure the others had some food at least every other day. 

Things were fine, and sometimes they weren't. Manny's cousin Carlos ran south of a protection racket. Manny got caught up in the whole thing by some thugs who wanted to teach Carlos a lesson. They didn't do anything too bad. A couple of bruises here and there was the most of it. That and a broken arm, which was the real problem. Stealing a car's tires without getting caught is hard enough when both your arms work properly.

Buff had not been pleased, but as long as he got his product he didn't really care what happened to the kids he employed. They couldn't equal the amount of tires they got with Manny, but Jason convinced Buff to just pay him a little less per tire while Manny recovered. Pretty much what happened was that the group worked harder for a few weeks. Jason tightened his belt a notch and gave Manny a bit of the cash he got. Jake and Alex helped were they could, though none of them worked as fast or as daringly as Jason. Alex had a mean eye for spotting expensive cars, and Jake was good at moving around unseen. 

Once Manny got better, things went back to normal. As life usually goes, things were fine until the next problem arrived. Sometimes it was Buff being in a mood, or Duncan being a pain in the ass. Once in a while, one of the kids got into a fight, or got beat up by some idiot. Sometimes someone had a run-in with one of Gotham PD's corrupt bastards. 

Then, almost a year after Jason joined the group, Alex didn't show at the warehouse. For a few days, they didn't hear anything about her. Duncan was the one who broke the news: a cop caught her on a job, brought her in and called CPP. Alex went into the system. None of the boys heard from her after that. 

A new kid took Alex's spot about a week after Duncan confirmed her fate. 

Suddenly, Jason wasn't the youngest anymore. Little Billy wasn't a day over ten years old. He was also a bit of an ass, but it was understandable. The Alley wasn't a kind place, and they were all a bit douchy sometimes, only Billy was a bit more douchy than most. 

What amused Jason to no end, was Jake's rivalry with Billy. Jason had been the youngest, sure, but Jake had still very much been the baby of the group. The cute one. And now here was Billy with his ginger hair and freckled button nose.

Jason soon found himself missing Alex's dry wit. The little one was too bratty to be properly witty and Jake was not one for sarcasm. Manny was too nice to be actually mean, which was half the fun.

The group moved on though. As it did when Nate died. As it would when Manny, all of sixteen years old, took the fall for Billy messing up and stealing one of Black Mask's guys wheels. He got a broken nose and a bullet to the leg as a 'friendly warning'. Manny went to the hospital, and from there into the system. 

Fourteen year-old Sophie joined their ranks. The group moved on. But to Jake and Jason, it didn't quite feel the same. 

The thing was, Duncan was an asshole. Manny, calm and kind as he was, used to be the one to deal with the older guy. Sophie was new and the rest of them too young for Duncan to take seriously. Jake had seniority, but he wasn't calm like Manny, and he wasn't mean enough to play on Duncan's field. 

Jake left the group about two months after Manny. He found enough cash by running errands for the Ice Lounge. Jason refused to go with him. 

* * *

It had been a slow few days in the Alley. One of Jason's usual hunting spots had been shut down by the police. Apparently Batman found an underground trafficking ring running underneath the nightclub. Jason would bet _at least_ two of the cops doing the arrests had been in on the thing. Everyone in the Alley had already known the club was dirty. The only surprise was that Batman deigned to go near it. He usually stuck around Gotham Proper more than anywhere else. 

Really, it just meant Jason hadn't been able to count on the nice new cars that often parked around the club. The boy had taken to walking around lately. He needed to find a new spot to replace the lost one, and what better way than to go around looking for the areas with the nicest cars? 

The sight of the _Batmobile_ parked _right in the middle of Crime Alley_ was as unexpected as snow in July. _Batman_. Near the Alley. Twice in a month. It was basically unheard of. Though Jason supposed it made sense if he was looking for connections to the trafficking ring. 

Besides, it was a pretty awesome car. Jason might even say it was the coolest he'd seen so far. And, well… it had four, pretty awesome, probably _expensive_ _wheels_. 

Jason chanced a look around. There was nobody nearby. The night was young. Batman was usually out until much later, if newspapers were to be believed, and it certainly didn't sound like people were being beaten up in the immediate vicinity. 

Jason took out his tools. There was an empty place not too far from there where he could store the wheels. 

* * *

There had been no sound of footsteps. No whisper of cloth fluttering in the wind. Still, Jason felt a prickle on the back of his neck. Too little, too late, the warning did nothing else but herald the arrival of a shadow falling over Jason. The boy, whose shoulders has tensed up just seconds earlier, drew in a sharp breath as he caught sight of the larger shape enveloping his shadow.

"You do know whose car this is?" A low, gravelly voice cut in sharply right behind him.

Jason swallowed, hard. He turned his head just enough to catch the bat out of the corner of his eye, and forced out a sardonic smile. Later, he would wonder what strange force influenced him to do what he did next. Was it sheer panic? Simple stupidity? The endless, frantic chorus of barely coherent thought racing through his mind certainly couldn't have agreed. And yet, the boy drowned out the refrain of ' _Shit shit shit. What did I do? What will he do? I'm so dead. What the hell am I doing_.' and he focused on the one thought that wouldn't send him into visible panic: _What the hell kind of idiot parks his ridiculously expensive car in Crime Alley?_

Jason held on to the incredulity with all he was worth, and he channeled the voice of every kid questioning the obliviousness of adults. "You _do_ know this is _Crime Alley_ , right?"

Then his brain caught up with his mouth's insanity and decided to manifest his panic into the physical world. That is, by swinging a tire iron at the Batman.

At the very least, he finally managed to engage his brain into working decently after that. Jason was running the very moment after contact was made, the pounding in his ears muffling Batman's surprised exclamation.

A distant part of his mind was stunned with the bewildered pride of him, Jason Todd, scoring a hit on the Batman. The rest of him was running on fear and adrenaline, too busy trying to avoid death by bat to think about anything else. 

(Batman wasn't known to attack kids, but Jason was pretty sure that _kids_ _weren't known to attack Batman either._ )

Jason ducked in and out of dark alleys and tight spaces, hoping against hope that Batman would be too surprised to give chase immediately. Even now, Jason was aware that his only shot was to get out of sight as quickly as possible. There was just no way he'd be able to beat the bat in a chase through Gotham's streets. He might be reckless, but he wasn't delusional.

The boy circled around the block and climbed the fire escape to the second floor window of an abandoned building. He scrambled against the wall and held his breath. His heart pounded in his chest, a dissonant tempo to the calm of his soulmate's song. A minute passed, then two. Though Jason twitched at every noise coming from outside, at every shadow that shifted just out of sight, there was no sight of the bat. 

He focused on the rise and fall of the music, trying to time his erratic breathing to the steady beat of the song. Jason slowly felt himself unwind as minutes passed with no caped vigilante bursting through the window. He stood slowly, tentatively. Every movement was punctuated by a breath held still in his lungs. Every creak of wood under his feet was met with a silent wince. Jason moved to the hallway, carefully peaking down the staircase at the empty ground-floor below. A cold breeze breached the room through Jason's alternative entrance. Three big rubber wheels lay nearby, nestled against the wall. Jason spared a thought of regret for the fourth wheel he failed to get, and headed back to the room he entered though.

Now that the excitement had faded a bit, the boy realized how hungry he was. He hadn't eaten anything since that morning, and it hadn't been a terribly filling meal anyway.

Jason took stock of his belongings. He had his backpack, as always, but most of his supplies were elsewhere. After all, there was only so much he could carry, and the tools he needed for work were heavy. Jason spared a wistful thought to his favorite hideouts, each with their small food stash and some extra supplies. 

He thought of the old hardware store, only a block and a half away, and the cans of soup he had hidden beneath the floorboards. Jason dismissed the thought, not daring to chance another encounter with the vigilante. 

This building didn't have any good hiding places, so the boy would have to do with what he brought. He didn't like going through his backpack for food. It was supposed to be for emergencies, in case his food cachés got raided or he couldn't reach them for whatever reason. Then again, his situation _probably_ counted as an emergency. 

The boy sighed with some displeasure, reaching for a granola bar that wouldn't do all that much to end his hunger. He had some more food in his bag, of course. He'd be stupid not to have at least a few things with him, but it wasn't much and he wasn't rearing to leave himself empty-handed. Jason ate his granola bar and resigned himself to wait until morning for a bigger meal. 

He found himself grateful that winter was done and over with. For now, his layered clothes and the extra socks and shirt he carried in his bag would stave off the worst of the cold. 

With a tired sigh, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and his battered copy of Pride and Prejudice. He huddled up to the wall and laid back against his backpack, dragging the hood of his jacket over his head.

He lit a cigarette first, taking a slow drag and forcing his muscles to relax with his exhale. Then, he cracked open the book from the beginning, reading through the first familiar paragraphs under the precious moonlight that pierced through the clouds of Gotham and filtered in through the stained window. He was only halfway through the third page when the words were suddenly sunk into shadow. Jason looked up to find a huge, imposing figure blocking out the light. He tensed back up immediately, snapping his book closed and instinctively glancing towards the hallway. He was jarred out of his half-thought escape plan by a voice that had already considered and dismissed it long ago. 

"Don't even try it, son." Batman said, keeping Jason frozen on the spot. 

"I never considered someone would try to _steal_ the batmobile's tires." He went on, after a beat of silence. "That takes guts."

Jason ignored the part of him that swelled with pride; there was always a catch with statements like that, and Jason couldn't tell what it was.

"I live in Crime Alley." The boy said. "What did you expect?"

Jason couldn't see the vigilante's eyes through the lenses of the cowl, but he suddenly got the feeling that they narrowed on him with renewed focus. "Guts... Or a special kind of desperation." Batman said. "You should keep away from the sort of person that would ask this of a child."

Jason blinked, taken aback. "What, _seriously_?" He said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Nobody asked me to do this, old man. There's no more jobs for jacking your wheels than there are for any other stupidly expensive car."

"You seriously expect me to believe that?" Batman said, not moving an inch and with clear scepticism in his voice. "That you saw the batmobile and just chose your target?"

Jason clenched his fist tightly, taking a quick drag of smoke. "I don't expect you to believe anything." He gritted out. "You know nothing about me or about the Alley. You have _no right_ to judge us when you show up here like twice a year."

When Batman kept silent, Jason added, "And by the way, no one asked me to do shit. I jacked your tires. _Me_. Jason Todd."

Batman didn't outwardly react, practically ignoring everything Jason had said. Instead, he asked, "Where are your parents?"

Jason said nothing for a moment, as if hoping his incredulous stare would be enough to drive Batman away.

"Gone, alright?" The boy said at last. "My mom got sick and she died." He forced out, glaring at Batman and challenging him to question his word again. He didn't take the bait.

"The streets are no place for a child." Batman said, as if Jason didn't already know that. As if there was a better place for all of the Alley kids to go to. 

"So what?" The not quite twelve-year-old said, stepping forward into Batman's space instead of backing away. "You gonna call social services or something? For every single kid in the streets? _Seriously_?" Jason coughed out a harsh laugh. "You'd be killing them faster than winter in the Alley."

Batman was silent, softly letting out what might have been a sigh if it wasn't coming from a huge wall of costumed brick.Jason stared at him for a second more before growling.

"Just take your damn wheels and _go_." He snarled, pointing out towards the corridor. 

Batman held his silence for another while, nearly causing Jason to explode, but then the man broke into smooth strides, walking past Jason and towards the hallway. 

"Put out that cigarette, those things kill. You are fixing the wheels back yourself." Batman said, not even waiting for an answer before continuing down the stairs, grabbing a wheel under his arm, and leaving the building under Jason's exasperated gaze. 

The boy rolled his eyes, cursing under his breath even as he crushed the cigarette under his heel and moved to follow the _dangerous vigilante._

Batman was waiting for him just outside the building, leading the way to the batmobile as soon as Jason had caught up to him. 

"You seem like a smart boy." Batman said as they walked, nearly startling Jason into losing the grip on his tire. "You shouldn't waste your potential on crime. You could go to school."

"What, you think I _want_ to be a criminal?" Jason said, sounding much more defensive than he would have liked. "I don't have a choice, alright? Just do what I gotta to survive."

"Why not do more?" Batman replied, "Live a life you can be proud of." 

Jason snorted and said nothing. They continued in silence to the batmobile, Batman fetching the last wheel while Jason started placing the first one back in its place. It wasn't long before Jason finished fixing the wheels, so with a final dramatic twirl of the iron in his hand, he stood. 

"All done, old man. See ya never." He said, stuffing the tools into his backpack and swinging it onto his back. 

"Hold on." Batman said. "You're coming with me."

Something went cold inside of Jason. The fear that had unknowingly dissipated suddenly came back with a vengeance. He had known there was a catch, and now there was a huge tank of a man demanding that Jason go with him. The boy knew he wouldn't be able to surprise him again. He knew he wasn't strong enough to fight him nor fast enough to outrun him. Jason cursed himself for being so stupid. The man was crazy enough to beat people up while dressed as a _giant bat_. Who even knew what else he might be willing to do? Jason deeply regretted having put the iron in his backpack. 

He must have been too quiet or looked too tense, because Batman's next words were said in the gentlest tone Jason had heard from the man so far. 

"Changing tires is hard work. I'm getting you some food." Batman said. "Anything you like. My treat."

Jason hesitated. He couldn't exactly say no. If Batman had ulterior motives, he could just kidnap Jason, no matter what he said. In the rare chance that he really just wanted to buy Jason some food, the boy would be a fool to turn him down. After all, he hadn't had a proper meal in days. 

" _Anything_ I want?" Jason asked, testing the waters. 

Batman nodded, "Anything at all."

Jason studied him for a moment, again considering and dismissing his chances of running away. 

"There's a diner on 3rd." Jason said. "I get to order anything I want." He added with narrowed eyes. 

Batman nodded again. "That's fine." He said, and gestured towards the batmobile, its doors opening at some unseen signal. 

Jason glanced warily between the vigilante and his car, mouth pursed with indecision before settling on a smirk, "Can I drive?" 

Batman made a grunting sound that Jason might have called amused if he weren't dealing with _actual Batman_. Still, the boy was pretty sure he saw the corners of his lips twitch into a lightning-fast smile. 

"Good try, lad. But no." Batman said. 

Jason shrugged, trying to hide just how much more at ease that hint of humor had set him on. 

"Another time, then." Jason said, sliding into the passenger seat. 

Batman huffed out a rather short, if surprisingly warm, chuckle. "Another time, sport."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally going to be even longer, but I decided to cut it here for reasons. Next chapter will also be about Jason. After all, he's only gonna be alive for so long.
> 
> (I'm debating whether or not to up the rating. Any thoughts on this would be appreciated.)
> 
> Thanks for reading, bookmarking, commenting, kudos-ing(?) and any assortment of any expression of enjoyment you might have had. You rock.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I have a tumblr now.  
> Come scream at me (or discuss things in a reasonable volume) at https://gmrivs-writes.tumblr.com


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